Bloom (18 page)

“Go on.”

“The truth is life isn’t about love and romance. It’s not even about tallying up good works and feeding the poor. Life is about everything ... everything except nothing. I know I’m not the most religious, but—”

“Sure you are.”

“No, I’m really not.”

“We’re all religious about something. It’s devotion, that’s all. Devoted to God, to music, our careers, ourselves. We’re all religious. Every last one of us.”

“Well, either way, I realized through all of this that the secret to everything isn’t in love and relationships, or charity and virtue. It’s inside of us. We can choose to see the world and all of its sorrows and scars as something beautiful, or we can dwell in criticism and pick apart things until we see ugliness in beauty. Life ... for me, I love your brother, I do, but even if I married him I could lose him tomorrow. Do you see what I’m saying? It hurts so bad to let him go, but it’s not the end of me. It’s all for the best. You’ll see.”

You’ll see, I said to myself again and again. You’ll see.

I slept in the morning of their wedding, then got cleaned up, dressed, and curled back into my bed. Ella and Gavin visited Philly for the day, so I had the house to myself, but I chose to stay in my room anyway.

I imagined scenarios. Crazy things like me trying to look nice for once and showing up just as they said their vows. Or Vasili discovering his love for me and showing up at my door.

Nothing like that happened. I wanted to erase every romantic movie from my memory and stop entertaining such impossibilities.

I decided to turn my phone back on. Kind of torturous, but I asked Sophia to text me pictures. I couldn’t bear taking pictures or being in the pews, but I loved him and missing it altogether felt wrong.

She hadn’t sent anything yet. I passed time by replaying memories, trying to figure out exactly how and when I fell for him. It’s not like me to fall for someone so easily, but maybe it wasn’t easy. I couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment. Like a natural progression, I grew to love him.

The comfort his presence brought. The way he cared for Anastasia. The gentle kisses he gave his mother. Every time I caught him looking at me as though I didn’t have any scars. His inspiring view of life and love. The way he’d give up anything, including his own happiness, for the one he loved.

How could I not do the same?

A text finally came in. Sure enough, from Sophia.

About to go into the sanctuary.

Then a picture came through. Handsome Vasili all dressed up sitting by a window. I zoomed in and traced his jaw with my finger, then I realized he was holding my gift to him. He looked down at it with a slight smile. A photograph of Anastasia in her garden. On the card I wrote:

Third and last photo in the “Out of Adversity” series. I thought this completed it well. The artist sends her love and wishes you the best.

Once again, I imagined him calling it all off and running to me, but I didn’t hear back from Sophia and no one knocked on the door.

A few hours later the sun disappeared. I managed to go downstairs and force myself to eat, then Sophia finally texted me. As soon as I read it, I dropped my apple and opened the floodgates.

All she said was:
I’m home now. Are you okay?

I couldn’t respond. I gripped the edge of the kitchen counter and gained control of my emotions.

“All for the best,” I whispered aloud. “You’ll see.”

I kept whispering to myself and within a few minutes the pain subsided. Then, under my breath, I laughed. A soft, quiet laugh. How did the girl who never gave anyone the keys to her heart slip them into the hands of someone who couldn’t keep them?

Sometimes life is like a movie. And there are times when the actors go off script and the camera breaks and the lights go down and all we can do is sit back on the set, take a look around, and laugh.

Vasili taught me that.

There’s an emptiness you
feel when you wake up alone
after a breakup, whether you loved the person or not. A part of your life is over. For good. A chapter has ended and the next page is blank, ready for new love. Then, there’s the emptiness you feel when you wake up knowing the one you love is flying to Paris to make love to his gorgeous bride as the Eiffel Tower sparkles in the moonlight. You finish the chapter, turn the page, read the first few lines of the next chapter, then roll over in bed and hope someone throws the book out the window before you open your eyes again.

I can’t say I wanted to wake up, but I did. Ella didn’t ask. She knew me well enough to know I’d open up when I was ready. I showered, got dressed, and picked up the letter from Anastasia. Months ago she made me promise to read it on her birthday and not a day sooner.

The day had come.

I managed to slip out of the house unnoticed. Before heading to the cemetery, I stopped into the local florist and picked up my order. Two dozen teal blue roses—Anastasia’s favorite color—complete with thorns.

“Thank you.” I smiled at the cashier and slipped a hundred dollar bill into her tip jar when she turned away. “Have a wonderful day.”

I used Pandora on my phone to listen to music on the way to the grave. When I parked Bruce Springteen’s
Secret Garden
song came on. I unplugged my phone, but kept the song playing as I walked through rows of headstones, until I finally stood before the freshly engraved “Anastasia Sophia Koursaris - Papa’s Little Girl.” Thinking of her sweet face, I knelt down beside the teddy bears and flowers and opened her letter.

Dearest Nona,

I knew you would marry my Nono before I even met you. The way he talked about you, I could just tell. I’m sad that I won’t be alive to see it. I love Natalie, but they don’t look at each other like you two.

I considered you my Nona from the start, even though you aren’t part of our church. Maybe one day you will be? Well, I guess if you marry my uncle hehehe :)

Thank you for everything. You’re probably looking at my grave right now. It’s weird to be writing this while I’m alive. I’m picturing my body all the way under the ground while people come up to my gravestone and kiss it like it’s my face.

Don’t cry. I’m not dead. I’m more alive than I’ve ever been. You will be too one day. And you and me will look at each other and we won’t have any scars. I can’t wait for that.

Oh, and my last wish, I know this is weird but ... don’t name your baby after me. Tell Vasili to do it the proper Greek way. He loves you. He’ll listen. It will make Yia Yia happy.

I love you. Make new memories and remember me. I love all of you so much.

Love,

Anastasia

I folded up the letter and stared at a picture of her that someone else must’ve put beside the stone.

“She wanted us to get married,” a voice said behind me.

I jumped.

Vasili looked down at me, a grin hugging his cheeks.

“What the heck?” I said, almost falling into the flowers.

He laughed. “I got your picture. The gift.”

“Where’s Natalie?”

“She insisted on taking pictures before the wedding so she wouldn’t ruin her makeup if she cried. She told me she couldn’t marry me without telling me about it. Then, we talked about life for a while and she told me she didn’t want to marry me.”

“What? Why?”

“She didn’t want to feel like she needed to live up to the way you loved me. She said she wanted to find a man she can love the way you love”—he cleared his throat—“me.”

I stood in front of him. “Vasili, I—”

“Shhhh....”

“No, but I—”

“Later.” He knelt in front of her grave. “Let’s focus on her for now.”

We stood at our cars
in the middle of the cemetery,
staring at each other. He tapped the hood of his car as I jingled my keys. He tapped again. I jingled more.

We never had an awkward moment before. It was always comfortable air between us, even if the air lacked words. But this was flat-out strange.

“So ... now what?” I said.

He looked around. “Want to go to Paris?”

“No.” I laughed. “I can’t. Not like this. Did you see the pictures of—”

“I saw them.”

“And you—”

“Don’t care.”

I nodded. He tapped. I jingled.

“Oh, come on.” He swung his arms and clapped his hands. “This feels like the most bizarre blind date ever. It’s you and me here.”

“You said we were like brother and sister.”

“I said what I needed to at the time.” He pointed to my car. “Let’s go get ice cream and fudge or something. Meet me at Central Market?”

We walked around the
market, looking at knick-
knacks and breathing in the freshly baked breads. He bought us five pounds of fudge, a little bit of every flavor. We decided to skip the ice cream. I didn’t like to eat a lot of sugar. Not since the cancer scare.

We sat outside on a bench, sampling fudge and listening to an old man play guitar. We smiled at him as he strummed away, then suddenly began playing a crazy guitar solo. His long beard shook as he played. Vasili and I exchanged glances as we ate. For a second, it almost seemed like old times. Except I couldn’t toss the idea of who he was intending to be with right now and where.

“Can I ask a question?” I dabbed my face with a napkin.

He put the fudge in his lap and nodded.

“You really loved Natalie, right?”

He nodded while shrugging.

“Is that a yes? I’m just wondering because you were about to commit to spending the rest of your life with her, and she decided to end it at the last minute. You didn’t put up a fight. Then, you’re sitting with me the next day, eating fudge like you never experienced any of that. Did she tell you about the salon? She never really wanted LA more than you.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

I looked down. “Sure.”

“Why did you write the man you love, finally telling him how you really feel, only to convince him to marry someone else?”

“I thought it was the right thing to do.”

“What is right and what is wrong in this situation?”

“Depends, I guess.”

“For you, the right thing to do is to have me marry Natalie. For Natalie, the right thing to do is have me marry you. For me, I don’t know. At first I thought the right thing to do was stick to my word. Commit to Natalie and give her my best, even though our time together lacked any sort of substance since she became obsessed with celebrities. I’m a man of my word, but was I wrong? Should I be a man of my heart, even if it betrays my word? What if it betrays another person? I don’t know. How far does a person go before their right becomes a wrong? How do we ever know if we’re right?”

People walked by as I processed his words. He looked deep in thought as well, occasionally bringing a slice of fudge to his lips. I tried not to notice.

“Want to know what really did it for me?” he said, staring off into the distance. “Those photographs. All this time you knew that my favorite piece of art was your own work. I spent nights looking at that thing for hours. Natalie never understood what I saw in it.” He paused, then looked at me. “You know what really gets me?”

“That we both understand the beauty in something she couldn’t see?”

“No,” he said. “Well, that too.” He set the fudge on the bench between us. “I could seriously eat that entire box.”

I smiled. “It’s really good. It has a milky creaminess to it without that gritty texture a lot of fudge has.”

“Man, I know. It melts in your mouth.”

I laughed. “I liked the mint chocolate chip one.”

“So, what amazed me the most is that you knew about it all that time and you kept it a secret. You didn’t want to hurt Natalie or cause problems.” He snuck another chunk of fudge and we both smiled. “And that really made me think, because Natalie hid your letter for the complete opposite reason. She was only looking out for herself.”

“She’s a good person. She just doesn’t think the same. I was always on the receiving end of inconsiderateness, so for me thinking of others is almost like a habit. It always annoys me when people in the city have multiple vehicles and they park them all out front, not even considering the family next door who has to lug five kids and groceries two blocks because they had to park their one vehicle super far away. But other people, like Natalie, always had people serving them life on a silver platter. Even you did it to her by always giving her what she wanted. It’s not her fault that she naturally considers herself first. She’s practically been forced into thinking that way, but she’s a sweet girl and she really wanted to try to be more considerate of your feelings.”

He rubbed his jaw. “Interesting.”

“I’m not completely selfless either, you know. Yes, I didn’t want to hurt anyone or become the source of problems, but also it scared the living daylights out of me.”

“What did?”

“The possibility of being with a man like you.” I let my hair fall from behind my ear, creating a shield from his eyes. “Now that I’m like this.”

“I have scars too, Sarah. You haven’t seen me naked yet.”

I blushed and tried to hide my laugh.

“I didn’t mean to say yet.” He laughed, stumbling over his words. “I mean, well, I have scars all the way down my chest to my ... stuff.”

I cracked up laughing and leaned back into the bench, holding my stomach and basking in the odd relationship we now had.

“Oh, Vasili.” I couldn’t stop laughing. “Your ... stuff?”

“I know, I know. Sounds very manly.” He stood. “On that note, I promised Mom I’d stop by today and explain everything. Should I tell her about you?”

“What about me?”

“That we’re, you know…”

“Dating?” I stood beside him and we began walking toward the parking lot. “No. Not yet. I don’t know how to do this.”

He nodded as he walked, then stopped by his car door. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“For?”

“Our date.”